


Deus ex Machina

by HartwinMakethMan



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dr. Orwell deserved to die in a fire, Family Feels, Fix-It, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Molestation, Past Sexual Assault, for the love of god help these children, picks up from Vile Village Part 1, these kids can finally recover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 03:15:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17614373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HartwinMakethMan/pseuds/HartwinMakethMan
Summary: The concepts  of luck and coincidence are both highly contentious. If you ask a gambler you will get a very different answer than if you were to ask a mathematician. If you ask a lonely, grieving writer, tasked with the heart-wrenching responsibility of chronicling the lives of three decidedly unlucky orphans, you will get another absolutely different answer.But in the case of Violet, Klaus and Sunny Baudelaire, to suggest the concept of luck would not necessarily be contentious or ill fitting-- but it would be a poor choice of words, as it is an understatement.There is a phrase to refer to the accumulation of luck and coincidence on a scale such as the one in this part of the Baudelaire story. A phrase for something incredible, dare I say a miracle, coming along to turn the tide when you least expect it. It is a Deus ex Machina, and it was heading to the hamlet of VFD at a startling speed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ohmybgosh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmybgosh/gifts).



> TA DA. This is the Klaus-centric Fix it fic that I've been working on forever. In a long overdue gift for her friendship and collaboration on this when it first came into my mind all that time ago-- this whole fic is for ohmybgosh. <333   
> I finally decided to start uploading chapters after watching the third season and WEEPING FOREVER-- I loved it, but I missed Olivia and Jacques and Jacqueline and OH MY GOD LARRY.
> 
> The fix-it we all deserve.
> 
> Please let me know what you think in the comments below <3

Luck, by definition, is "success or failure apparently brought by chance rather than through one's own actions". If you were to run from your car into the store before a storm starts, you might say that it was luck that held the rain at bay, and not the fact that you increased your speed to avoid it. 

 

If you were orphaned by a terrible fire that destroyed your entire home, you might be said to have bad luck. To then be hunted from home to home by a malevolent and greedy actor hellbent on killing you for your fortune would likely be called very, very bad luck. 

 

Coincidence is a different concept, referring to a remarkable concurrence of events or circumstances without apparent causal connection. If you have run from your car to the store to avoid a storm and promptly run into someone you knew from your shadowy past as a lizard wrangler, you may say "what a coincidence!" 

 

If you have been kidnapped to Peru by a malevolent actor's bumbling troupe of henchpeople and you run into an old friend with a background in welterweight boxing and menial office tasks, then you may also say "what a coincidence!". 

 

The concepts of luck and coincidence are both highly contentious. If you ask a gambler you will get a very different answer than if you were to ask a mathematician. If you ask a lonely, grieving writer, tasked with the heart-wrenching responsibility of chronicling the lives of three decidedly unlucky orphans, you will get another absolutely different answer. 

 

But in the case of Violet, Klaus and Sunny Baudelaire, to suggest the concept of luck would not necessarily be contentious or ill fitting-- but it would be a poor choice of words, as it is an understatement. 

 

The story of these orphans is full of luck-- most of it bad, until suddenly it is not-- and more than a little coincidence-- a surprising amount without their direct knowledge. 

 

It all began with a fire that destroyed the Baudelaire mansion, and Count Olaf, the man who started it. But, while walking back from the Council of Elders to Hector's home, the sunset painting the sky the color of flames, that was a new beginning as well. 

 

For this, the Baudelaires' second night in the barely picturesque village of VFD, would be the night that everything changed. All it took were two strips of wet paper that happened to fall early when the murder of crows came to roost in the Nevermore Tree. The first of many new strokes of good luck in the Baudelaire lives. 

 

"Klaus, what do you know about jailbreaks?" Violet asked, hair tied back in her ribbon and a little smudge of grease on her cheek. 

 

"Well, in Papillon, the autobiographical novel by Henri Charrière, his first escape from Guiana is by boat-- he sails all the way to Columbia before he's caught again..." he looked tired. World-weary in the way you can only be when you're suffering enough to forget your own birthday. 

 

"Eeeoowly!" Sunny chastised, as if to say "But this is a dry county!" 

 

"Oh, I guess you're right, Sunny-- in The Count of Monte Cristo, Dantes digs a tunnel to escape... he ends up not using it, but--" 

 

"Baudelaires, Baudelaires!" It is rare that being interrupted is a good or welcome thing, but Hector's entering the barn at that exact moment was more than welcome. "Those strips of paper you found from the Nevermore tree-- there are more of them!" 

 

Klaus and Violet looked up sharply at each other, hope flickering in their shared gaze. 

 

"Please, Hector-- may I see them?" 

 

Hector graciously handed them over, and the Baudelaires found their hearts felt a little lighter with the hope that Isadora and Duncan Quagmire could be close at hand. The strips of paper held two couplets in Isadora's graceful handwriting and Violet grinned as she read over her brother's shoulder. 

 

"What do you think it could mean?" She asked. 

 

"I... I don't know yet. I'm sure we'll figure it all out. How's your invention for Jacques coming?" 

 

"It still needs work-- any headway with the blueprints?" 

 

Klaus nodded, still staring with rapt attention at the couplets in his hands "There are currently two possibilities for the weakest part in the wall-- I'll take a break and try to decipher these poems." 

 

The eldest Baudelaire took her brother's hand when he thought of something that made his spirits falter. 

 

"Klaus, what is it?" She asked. 

 

"So much hangs in the balance of us figuring out these puzzles-- the Quagmires--"

 

"And Jacques." 

 

"Bobo." Sunny chimed in, as if to say "And us!" 

 

Nevertheless, they proceeded with their work, unaware of the forces of luck and remarkable, almost too remarkable, amounts of coincidence coming to favor them. 

 

There is a phrase to refer to the accumulation of luck and coincidence on a scale such as the the one in this part of the Baudelaire story. A phrase for something incredible, dare I say a miracle, coming along to turn the tide when you least expect it. It is a Deus ex Machina, and it was heading to the hamlet of VFD at a startling speed. 

 

On a motorcycle from the city after having received a very important phone call from the hinterlands, the VFD were slated to arrive in VFD just in time to end the suffering of the Baudelaires, the Quagmires, and prevent the death of my brother.

 

In order to properly explain the sheer volume of the events that had to coincide to change the fates of the ill-fated Baudelaires, it is necessary to bring our story back to the actions of Jacques Snicket and Olivia Caliban in a dusty saloon when first confronting Count Olaf the day before. 

 

Jacques may be overconfident at times. He expects the best when he should be preparing for the worst. But, this time-- with Count Olaf locked up in the jail at long last-- was not one of those times. 

 

"We can't just leave this up to the two of us-- underestimating Count Olaf is a potentially fatal error." Olivia said, chewing her nail pensively as she and Jacques sat upstairs waiting for tea water to boil. 

 

"You're absolutely correct, Olivia Caliban. That is why I called in some back up-- we'll have the children safe and sound on our way to Headquarters in no time at all." He smiled, sipping his tea. 

 

The impending arrival of Jacqueline, Larry, and another stroke of good luck and coincidence-- a phrase which means here "a caring man with a penchant for escaping dangerous or serpentine circumstances"-- meant that Jacques was not concerned by the presence of Olaf and his troupe in the little town. He wasn't even a little swayed when Esme Squalor was revealed as the chief of police, or when Jacques and Olivia themselves ended up in the cells. 

 

In this telling of the Baudelaire tale, no one would use the sugar bowl as a bargaining chip to escape and no one would kill Jacques Snicket, because help was on the way. 

 

By the time the sleek black motorcycle rumbled into the empty town square, it was nearly light out. Inside the jail, Jacques smiled, hearing the telltale sound that said that the time for a heroic escape was now. 

 

Especially once the door was opened just a crack, and Jacqueline stepped into the jail with grace and purpose in her stride, not making a sound. She was a Deus ex Machina all in herself. 

 

"Hello Jacques, Miss Caliban-- I think it's time for a heroic escape, don't you?" She whispered through the bars, gesturing with a smirk to a deceptively simple lock-picking set.

 

"Indubitably." Jacques replied. 

 

They were free in mere moments, sneaking toward the exit before Esme or Olaf could be distracted from their "dancing". Finally able to inhale the clean night air again, Jacques found himself pausing on the steps of the jail, looking out at a black motorcycle with two men standing at attention, both highly recognizable-- one of whom Olaf still believed to be dead. 

 

"Larry, Monty! It's good to see you, old friends." Jacques started to say, trying to introduce the woman he loved to the tense men joining their mission. But, he was cut off by a scream-- the exclamation of a thwarted villain. Olaf and Esme had checked the cells and seen that they'd been outwitted. 

 

"It's time to put our plan into action, Volunteers." Jacqueline nodded to Monty and Larry, who nodded back to her almost like a salute. 

 

"We'll hold them off and then head back to Headquarters- you stash the bike while Snicket and Caliban get the kids." Larry said. 

 

"But the Baudelaires--" Monty started, his tone implying his anxiousness to see his charges once again. 

 

"Dr. Montgomery, the Baudelaires and Quagmires will be perfectly safe-- Jacques and Olivia will bring them to Headquarters." Jacqueline cut in. They didn't have much time. "Olaf thinks you're dead. The element of surprise is on our side with you here." 

 

Monty's jaw tightened, his mustache twitching with displeasure, but still, he nodded. 

 

"Well hello, hello, _hello_." Came a deep, snarling voice from behind them "a group of sitting ducks just for me, I--" Olaf trailed off, coming up short as his beady eyes zeroed in on the ghost in the town square. 

 

"Hello indeed, Olaf. Or should I call you _Stephano_." Monty sneered, giving the others the cover they needed to put their plan into motion. "You took my children from me--"

 

"You got in my way." 

 

Olivia was rooted to her spot, shrewd gaze flickering between the two men as her mind filled with questions. Who was this Dr. Montgomery? The Baudelaires were his children? 

 

She didn't get a moment's time to voice her questions, though, when Jacques' hand found hers and began to tug her away from the scene, toward Hector's house on the edge of town. 

 

"There's no time to lose, we must get to the Baudelaires and find the Quagmires as soon as possible-- before dawn, if we can." 

 

Despite the new turn in the luck in our typically unfortunate story, they would not fulfill their plan before dawn. Sunlight began to streak the horizon by the time they had reached the small farm house and the Nevermore Tree. 

 

"Baudelaires!" Olivia called out, racing toward the dark house, only to see Jacques headed towards the barn. 

 

"Baudelaires!" He pounded against the wood of the door "Baudelaires, open up! It's Jacques Snicket, we mean you no harm." 

 

When the door swung back to reveal three tired, dirty faces with wide eyes, Olivia's heart nearly broke. 

 

"Jacques!" Violet spoke first "We've been working all night to break you out. How'd you do it?" 

 

"The help of my dear associates, Baudelaires-- now, we have no time to lose. There is someone very eager to see you again." 

 

"But, we still need to find the Quagmires." Klaus immediately replied, brandishing four scraps of paper in his hand. "I've just deciphered Isadora's couplets!" 

 

"Excellent work, Klaus!" Olivia chimed in, and Klaus grinned when he recognized her "you'll have to tell us what that means later, when we're all safe-- Quagmires included." 

 

"Caw!" Said Sunny, held by her sister. 

 

"They're in the Fowl Fountain." 

 

The tale of Violet, Klaus and Sunny Baudelaire is rarely one of good luck or happy coincidences. However, just then, crossing the empty town square of VFD to the looming shape of Fowl Fountain, was the first time that the children thought maybe, just maybe they'd finally succeed. They would see their friends and be safe again, get the answers they all craved so badly. 

 

Klaus and Violet yelled for their friends, trying to get closer to the fountain. 

 

"I don't understand-- how do we open it?" Violet exclaimed, and Klaus desperately reread the poems. 

 

"Maybe the--" 

 

"Allow me, Violet."

 

Jacques stepped up onto the lip of the dry, bird-shaped prison and reached up to pull down on the beak with a characteristic flourish. With the a series of mechanical whirls and clicks, then, the wings seemed to unfurl from the statue and reveal its hollow center. 

 

"Duncan!" and "Isadora!" the Baudelaires cried, rushing forward to hug their friends and congratulate them on their clever plan within the couplets. Barely a word was spoken, though, before Olivia was herding the children off again. 

 

"Children, quickly-- the car's waiting, there's no time to lose!"

 

Unfortunately, as it would turn out, their time looked to already be up. Esme Squalor was poised for attack, her teal police uniform catching the early morning sun like some type of warning flair as she howled with maniacal laughter. 

 

"Oh Darling-- I've found some of your friends." She called, attracting the attention of Olaf and his gleaming predatory eyes "Leaving so soon?" 

 

There was a glint of metal in the dawn light, Esme raising a strange contraption into the sky with the confidence only reserved for the truly deranged. It was a harpoon gun-- fully loaded and ready to fire. 

 

A chill ran through each and every one of the assembled volunteers, and, as they found themselves with their backs figuratively to the wall, they did the only thing left to do. 

 

"Run!" Jacques cried,  

 

He guided the children through the town of VFD, desperately searching for the alley where he had earlier stashed his trusty taxi cab. Esme and Olaf were gaining on them, just a couple of intrepid volunteers and a troupe of weary orphans, and the seconds ticked by before Esme started to fire her weapon. The lethally sharp projectiles whizzed past, one and then the other. 

 

There was one more left. 

 

Often in film and television, scenes of intense violence or suspense are slowed down for dramatic effect. Anyone who has ever witnessed or been a participant in a scene of intense violence or suspense in reality however, will tell you that there is no slow motion to allay the calamity and terror. 

 

So, when Esmé's last harpoon launched out of her harpoon gun and hurtled toward Jacques's taxi, it was difficult to tell it had fired at all, let alone where it was headed. Everyone was so desperate, running to the taxi and pulling open the doors. 

 

But Klaus Baudelaire turned. It was this act of turning around at the door to ensure his sisters' presence behind him that determined exactly where the harpoon would land. 

 

It all happened so fast. 

 

"KLAUS!" Violet cried as her brother let out an agonized scream, the tip of the harpoon buried in his chest, high up and close to the juncture of his shoulder. 

 

Esmé was cackling and Olaf crowed in delight. Violet was suddenly lost between gripping her brother and sister, and calling for help, though her voice didn't seem to work beyond shouting for Klaus. 

 

If it weren't for a pair of strong arms pulling the Baudelaires into the backseat of the car, this series of unfortunate events would have only become more unfortunate, unraveling the good works of the Deus ex Machina. 

 

"Olivia-- floor it." Jacques said, voice tight with horror and dread while Klaus Baudelaire trembled and cried in his arms. Sunny wailed and Violet tried to comfort her even as she failed to hold back her own tears. 

 

"Will-will he be okay?" Isadora piped up from the front seat. She and Duncan looked back at their friends with wide, concerned eyes. 

 

Blood had started to seep through Klaus's shirt and waistcoat. Violet made a helpless noise at the sight, and Duncan placed his hand over hers. 

 

"He'll be right as rain, given time and care." Jacques replied, not moving his eyes for a moment from the boy in his lap. "Klaus, look at me-- I'm sorry for what I'm about to do, but it will take away the pain. Alright?" 

 

The answering whimper was nothing discernible in any language I know of, but his small nod was universally understood. 

 

"Good. Now, I need you to take your sister's hand." Violet took her brother's clammy hand and squeezed reassuringly while he trembled in her grasp "Good. And now... don't forget to breathe." 

 

Jacques, a grim but determined set to his jaw, then placed his hand over the bloody wound, pressing down as lightly as he could. 

 

It was enough for Klaus. 

 

The scream from Klaus Baudelaire was too agonized, too tortured for me to describe. The only mercy of it was that it didn't last long. 

 

"You... you knocked him out. He's unconscious." Violet managed to finally croak out, the sound of her brother's pain still ringing in her ears. 

 

"Right you are, Violet." Jacques replied "That wasn't particularly safe and hardly standard medical practice. However... it's a long drive to Headquarters. I've bought your brother a few hours of peace, at least while I provide what little treatment I can." 

 

He and Olivia locked eyes in the rearview mirror, a moment passing between them in the crowded cab of anxious orphans. 

 

"Headquarters?" Duncan asked, just as Violet exclaimed "Shouldn't we be taking Klaus to a hospital?" 

 

"The Headquarters of the VFD." He nodded "Klaus will be safe from Count Olaf there, Violet, in a way that he wouldn't be at a normal hospital." 

 

"You've all been through so much. We know it's a lot to ask, but you need to trust us, Violet." Olivia said gently, her eyes flickering to the children before returning to the dusty road ahead. 

 

"Besides-" Jacques continued, the ghost of a smile on his face "Someone important is anxiously waiting for you there."

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Surprise! You get a little chapter early because you commented so much and so sweetly (and it was already mostly written)! Please continue that and let me know what you think of this one. <3 
> 
> I should make a little canon divergence clear before we get started-- the details of the survival of Monty will be explained next chapter, but the thing you should know now is that Monty was kidnapped from the theatre and supposed to be killed on route to Peru. Ta da! 
> 
> Enjoy <3

The thing about desperately needing to get somewhere is that the imperative nature of the destination makes the journey feel even longer than it actually is. 

 

Especially when you are crammed into a crowded taxi with your wounded brother and terrified friends, heading away from danger into another possibly dangerous situation with nothing but the promise of answers to the questions you've sought since the start of this depressing chronicle. "Sought" is a word which here means "repeatedly attempted to find, only to be dogged with misery and peril". 

 

The hours of driving along the road to the Mortmain Mountains crawled by. After much plying from Duncan and Isadora, Violet finally let go of the sleeping Sunny for a while, so the eldest Baudelaire could devote her full attention to helping Jacques Snicket tend to Klaus. 

 

He remained unconscious for a good long time. With his basic medical knowledge, Jacques could conclude that the harpoon had done no real, lethal damage. There didn't seem to be any broken bones, either. 

 

"Your brother is very lucky, Violet." Jacques reassured Violet, but she didn't feel particularly reassured. Klaus didn't seem too lucky, but she wouldn't say that aloud. He was alive, they were together. That would have to be enough. 

 

She held his limp hand in hers still, finding herself unable to let go. He'd whimper with pain in his sleep every so often, breaking his sister's heart a little more with every sound. 

 

Helplessness is a very unpleasant feeling, one that the Baudelaire orphans knew well. This feeling, though, in my experience, is at its most disheartening and aggravating when a person you love dearly and have sworn to protect is in pain and there is nothing you can do but hold their hand and wait. 

 

And, though the tide of the Baudelaires current misfortune was turning for the better, this brand of helplessness was only beginning for Violet, especially with regards to her dear brother. 

 

Jacques dressed the injury as best he could with materials from his well stocked trunk, but left the harpoon lodged in the young boy for fear of causing more damage by pulling it out. 

 

One by one, each of the children followed Sunny Baudelaire's lead, dropping off to sleep after their long ordeal. All except Violet. 

 

Violet did not sleep. The eldest Baudelaire was exhausted, but didn't dare close her eyes, standing sentinel over her brother, sister, and friends. She was awake for miles of countryside, she was awake when the sun set behind the mountains in the ever-shortening distance. She remained awake through all the night, when Olivia and Jacques switched places to take the wheel, and when Jacques placed a call to alert Headquarters of their impending arrival and the injury on board. 

 

Klaus's head, at some point, came to rest in Violet's lap, the end of the harpoon constantly in her line of sight. It made her stomach churn, so she focused on his face. He was ghostly pale, jaw clenched against the pain that haunted him even in his sleep. 

 

She was awake for the times he shifted and woke up as well, hiccuping and tearing up. Violet shushed him gently, stroked his sweaty hair off of his forehead until he drifted back off. Cradled against her, she couldn't help but remember when they were small. When the Baudelaire parents had had let her hold her baby brother, made her promise to care for and protect him. 

 

As they pulled onto a secret mountain road in the Valley of Four Drafts, Violet couldn't help but feel as if she had failed.

  


* * *

 

Headquarters was more or less empty, except for the small band of the Deus ex Machina awaiting a familiar taxi on the horizon. 

 

Monty hadn’t slept a wink. They had had Olaf and Esme securely tied up in the saloon, there was no chance that they could escape. 

 

Or, so they had thought. 

 

But then, Jacques had called from the cab to tell them to get a doctor and prepare the biggest suite in the whole of Headquarters for them all. 

 

Jacques hadn’t mentioned who had been injured or what had happened, and Monty had butterflies in his stomach just thinking about the possibilities. 

 

Perhaps, if he had stayed— defied Jacqueline’s plan and insisted on accompanying Snicket and Caliban— nothing would have gone wrong. 

 

Who had been injured? It couldn’t be too terribly dire, could it? If it had been, surely they would have been sidetracked to a hospital. 

 

He had been waiting for hours in the expansive, if a bit dusty,  lobby of the VFD, watching for headlights and anxiously sipping a cup of coffee that had long since gone cold. 

 

At the first sign of them coming down the winding mountain pass and up to the large, heavy doors, Monty was abandoning his coffee and calling out to the others. 

 

“They’ve arrived!” 

 

Jacqueline was the first to fling open the doors, just as the taxi pulled up. Monty was on her heels— a phrase which here means “nearly trampling her in his haste”— searching for the Baudelaires. He counted two unfamiliar faces before he clapped eyes on Violet, looking shaky and gripping Sunny tightly to her. Relief flooded through his chest— he had come so far to find them again. He had braved just strange and fearful circumstances to return to his children. 

 

“Bambini!” He cried. 

 

The eldest Baudelaire was quite unprepared to see her old (not-dead) guardian again. It was like a dream, and if Sunny hadn’t been in her arms, Violet would have pinched herself, not daring to hope. 

 

“M-Monty?” 

 

Many things compounded at once on Violet Baudelaire just then, including but not limited to: immense distress and worry for her brother, shock and disbelief at seeing someone so dear that she had until then believed to be dead, not to mention sleep deprivation. 

 

Monty crouched before the girls, and his hand on her shoulder was warm and real. 

 

“My dears, are you alright? You can’t imagine what I’ve been through to find you again— where’s our reader?” he grinned, wide and relieved, but it faded quickly when he remembered that there had been an injury. 

 

“Esme— Esme sh-shot him, he’s hurt..” tears garbled her words, and Monty felt his joy dissolve into nothing but horror, finally looking around the taxi. 

 

Jacques Snicket held the crumpled form of Klaus Baudelaire, having a hushed conversation with the doctor. 

 

It is impossible for me to know exactly what was going through Dr. Montgomery’s mind when he was reunited with the Baudelaires or, more specifically, when he saw the harpoon sticking out of the middle Baudelaire’s chest. However, I do know what Monty said first, hissed at my brother through gritted teeth, when he rushed over to get a look at the boy’s slack face. 

 

I am more than simply familiar with the sensation of guilt. In fact, not a day goes by where I am not plagued by memories of a beautiful woman in a dragonfly costume, and thoughts of what could have been if I had thought to search the party for her instead of dejectedly drinking a root beer float at the bar. 

 

It is because of my acute knowledge of these feelings that I know that when Dr. Montgomery looked up at my brother and hissed “ _You_ were supposed to _protect_ the children!” what he really meant was “ _I_ was supposed to _protect_ the children!”.

 

He placed a hand on Klaus’s cheek, feeling the feverishness there that comes with immense pain, before taking his glasses from where they were perched, askew against the bridge of his nose. He tucked them into his pocket. 

 

“Olaf’s henchpeople freed them from the ropes just in time to catch us getting to the taxi.” Jacques tried to explain. 

 

“Uncle Monty, Jacques has been nothing but helpful—“ Violet cut in “please, let the doctor take care of Klaus.” 

 

“Of course, Violet Baudelaire. A capital idea— Doctor, lead the way!” 

 

Were the circumstances less dire, Monty would have pointed out to the Baudelaires the grand beauty and elegance of their Headquarters— their home for the time being— and insisted on taking them on a tour of every floor and corridor. If good fortune had fully assumed control of the Baudelaire story, Klaus would never have been shot by Esme Squalor, and this is definitely what would have happened. 

 

Alas, that is not the nature of our story, or any other one. We are all just passengers in a strange taxi, going to unknown destinations while noble and wicked forces grapple for the steering wheel. 

 

Which is why, instead of getting to be happy, safe, and well for the first time in many months, the Baudelaire sisters found themselves waiting with baited breath for the doctor and Jacques to be through with their brother. 

 

“Monty, I don’t understand— how are you here? Count Olaf told us you were dead!” Violet asked. 

 

“Dead? No. That was definitely a part of his fiendish plot, but it never came to pass. I was too quick for him.” His eyes gleamed mischievously, and Violet managed a small smile. She had missed him dearly. 

 

“But how—“ 

 

“My dear girl, all in good time. I will be more than happy to tell you once all three of my Baudelaire bambini are safe and well. Agreed?” 

 

Violet nodded, although she did not want to wait in the slightest. 

 

Everyone filtered into the room at one point or another, to wait in solidarity with the sisters for news of Klaus. Duncan and Isadora came and sat down, flanking Violet on either side. Despite her lack of sleep and high anxiety, Violet did find a certain comfort in the proximity of her friends and guardian. So many noble people had come together to help the Baudelaires. 

 

If you have ever had a loved one undergoing a surgery, you know that it takes an interminably long time. By the time Klaus was safely resting in the quarters the VFD had provided to them all, it was nearly mid afternoon. He slept for hours, his sisters, the Quagmires, and Monty all milled around, waiting the interminably long time it took for the anesthetic to wear off. 

 

The Quagmires, Monty, and Olivia Caliban all tried at one point or another to ply the sisters with food or a rest, but they refused to leave their brother’s side. 

 

By the time he finally woke, the room had emptied to none but his dear sisters. The sun was starting to set outside the window looking out over the mountains when Klaus Baudelaire opened his eyes to see the blurry, unmistakeable shapes of Violet and Sunny. 

 

“Klaus!” Sunny cried, one of the few words she could say. 

 

Violet grinned, squeezing Klaus’s hand as he got his bearings “we’ve been so worried about you!” She said. 

 

“Where- where are we?” He croaked, pain lancing through him— a phrase which here means “being suddenly and completely filled with agony”— as he tried in vain to sit up. 

 

“Not so fast, Klaus Baudelaire.” Monty was there in the threshold, rushing to aide the boy before Violet could even think. He handled Klaus gently, like something precious, helping him to sit up against the pillows behind him. 

 

What little color that had returned to Klaus’s cheeks drained at the sound of his old guardian’s voice. He squinted up at him, confused and lost. 

 

“Violet?” he said, not daring to look away from the blurry shape of their Uncle Monty, in case he disappeared. 

 

“He’s real, Klaus. This is all real.” Violet took his trembling hand, tearing up despite her best efforts. 

 

“Where are my glasses?” 

 

“I have them, dear boy.” Monty replied, unfolding his glasses and gently slipping them onto his face “ _there_ you are.” 

 

He smiled kindly at the middle Baudelaire’s slack-jawed expression.

 

“But—“ he choked on the words, eyes welling with tears “How are you—? We _needed_ you, where have you been?!” 

 

“Klaus!” Violet exclaimed, trying to check his rudeness, but her brother wasn’t listening. 

 

“We thought you were dead! Where did you go—“ 

 

“Shh, shh, _shh_.” Monty soothed, coming to sit close beside him and hold him, keeping the boy from jostling his injury “I’m terribly sorry, I am, my dear boy. Klaus Baudelaire, I had to travel very far to get back to you.”

 

It had been a long time since any of the Baudelaires had received a hug from a guardian— someone who is assigned to alleviate stress and keep one safe. Which is why it took less than a second in Uncle Monty’s embrace for Klaus to surrender to his tears. Violet gripped his hand, Sunny held close to her own chest. 

 

For the first time in months, the Baudelaires dared to hope.

 


End file.
